Kairos
by MistressMira
Summary: Kairos- The perfect, delicate, crucial moment. The fleeting rightness of time and place that creates the opportune atmosphere for actions, words, or movement. UPDATE: It has been pointed out to me that my ending is a huge cliffhanger. I will be working on a continuation to give the story some resolution for the two. Thanks for the lovely reviews!


Hawke sat at the edge of her bed in silence, her black hair creating a curtain around her face. Every once in a while her shoulders would twitch and a tear would slip slowly down the already prominent tracks on her face. She had sat silently through her uncle blaming her for her mother's death, stoic through Aveline's speech, and mutely through Sebastian's Chant and prayer to the Maker. Hawke shook her head at the memory. Even the Chantry claimed the Maker turned his back on the world, why be so devout to someone who doesn't care? Especially if he could let necromancers run around killing innocent women like her mother? Well, the Tevinter Imperium did burn his Bride at the stake so Hawke could be a little understanding.

So deep in her questioning of The Maker's will she barely noticed her bedroom door open and swiftly click closed behind her uninvited guest. Her bed dipped beside her, this time with Fenris' weight, and she subconsciously leaned toward him. Even in her hardened state she was irresistibly drawn to the elf.

"I don't know what to say but I am here." His deep rumble soothed her in its familiarity.

She returned with a broken, "Just say something. Anything."

"They say death is only a journey. Does that help?"

"It just raises more questions. Journey to where?"

Fenris shifted uncomfortably next to her. Hawke glanced through her hair at him, her eye catching the red sash tied around his wrist. She had barely noticed it when they had been searching The Foundry for her mother but now it seemed to taunt her against the dark color of his leggings. His _trophy_ for bedding the great Hawke. She couldn't bring herself to look at the crest on his hip. To see the Amell crest now would not help the mage retain the modicum of control she had.

His gauntleted hands rested on his knees and the hand with the favor twitched lightly as he spoke again.

"I don't know. It is just something people say."

When Fenris' hand twitched again Hawke reached her hand out to take his claw covered one. He recoiled from her, drawing his hand away quickly and letting out a hiss of breath. The already broken woman, who had only been seeking comfort from the stubborn object of her affection, cracked a little more.

"Sorry," she said, proud of her unwavering voice, "I forgot. You can't let the filthy mage touch you."

Hawke felt a surge of pleasure as the barb hit home. The elf visibly stiffened beside her and let out a low growl. When his markings let out a low pulse, indicating that she had made him angry, she decided to push. She was overwhelmed with the desire to hurt someone, _anyone_, just so she didn't have to feel alone with her pain. What better person then the man that had caused her heart to begin to tear itself to pieces before that bastard Quentin destroyed what was left? How dare he come here to offer comfort when he had none to offer?

"We already made that mistake. Let's not repeat it, shall we?" She spat the words at him.

"Hawke." Her name came out sounding like he was barely restraining himself.

She finally turned to face him. Violet eyes streaked red and wet cut through his anger, slightly cooling his temper. Her nose was messy and reddish in color while the rest of her skin was sallow and pale. Grief and hopelessness pulled at the edges of her eyes yet he could still see the flame in them that sent her headlong into battle at a moment's notice. Her lips were puffy and pulled into a pout. He could see teeth marks in her lower lip where she had bitten down to hold her tongue. Fenris briefly wondered who had been here before him. He had never seen Hawke cry, not after he had barely explained why he was fleeing her bed in the middle of the night, not when she slid a blade into her brother's heart in the Deep Roads, and not after the broken leg she suffered fighting Tal Vashoth on the Wounded Coast. She had only allowed Fenris to help her that day because he had thrown her over his shoulder before she could protest.

Hawke stood up abruptly when he didn't say anything more. She moved to in front of her fireplace and started gently teasing the flames with her own conjured flames. She was deliberately using magic to provoke him and Fenris was trying, almost successfully, to let her rage without making it worse. He had caused some of the pain she was holding on to. He wanted to tell her that he was just as upset and confused about it as she was but still hadn't come up with what to say. While the mage kept her back to him in silence he tried to find a way to say that it wasn't that he didn't want her to touch him. It was that he _couldn't_ let her touch him. He could barely control his desire for her when she was near him and it would be impossible if she got that close.

"I'll try my best, "Hawke broke the silence, "to make sure that I don't _spoil_ you anymore than I have."

It was Fenris' turn to get to his feet and lash out. He crossed over to her and stood almost exactly where he stood the night he left her. She faced him head on, ready for anything he might respond with. She set her jaw, almost like she expected a blow, and curled her fists to her sides.

"I never said that, Hawke." He bit out.

"Oh, I clearly remember you saying it. 'What has magic touched that it doesn't spoil?' I've heard you tell Anders you believe mages should be made Tranquil. That we are vile, wretched creatures that deserve imprisonment just for being born different." She was raging now, a heavy aura of mana hanging in the air. "I almost believe it now, you know? I encounter blood mages and abominations so often that I wonder what the Circle is really teaching them. A blood mage just killed my mother. A blood mage tormented and enslaved you for years. Why should I believe that magic has any good left in it?"

Fenris reached for her then and this time she reacted harshly. Hawke blocked his hands with her arms and screamed at him. The word 'no' hung in the air between them for several minutes. Hawke was shaking with anger and unspoken words directed at the elf. Fenris saw in her eyes the moment she decided to cut him with words.

"I don't think you really want to touch me, elf. Who knows how many days it will take you to get clean this time?"

"You are wearing my patience with you, Hawke." Fenris' marks lit up brighter, making his point for him. He was unsure what bothered him more, her disgust at his deplorable actions in the past or that she presumed that he run from her due to her magic instead of his own cowardice.

"Ah, yes, because patience is something you have in spades, isn't it?" Hawke brought her finger up and poked him sharply in the center of his breastplate. "Tolerance is your middle name, isn't it, Fenris? If only I had half the _patience _you have, I might be able to stop the Qunari from invading without killing any of them."

Fenris grabbed her wrist, careful not to let his clawed gauntlets tear her flesh, and twisted her arm to the side. He wasn't much larger than her but he was far stronger and quickly had her backed into the wall of her room. He pinned the hand that had been poking at him to the cool stone and spread his other hand across her breast above her heart. She looked at him defiantly and he could see barely a ring of violet around her pupils. Her chest rose and fell with her panting breath and her skin flushed hot under her thin robes. Fenris was confused at the way her heart pounded in her chest. It wasn't the normal fearful flutter he felt before he tore through a chest but a strong, steady hammer against her breast.

"Did the Big Bad Wolf finally catch himself The Red Robed Apostate?" She practically cooed the taunt at him with hints of venom dripping off of it. She had no fear when his hand shifted into the Fade and started breeching her skin. "Is the Wolf going to tear out my heart so I can't spoil anything else? You've already broken it; why not tear it out more literally this time?"

He had only wanted to get her to stop tormenting him with her barbed tongue he hadn't expected to hear something like that. He pulled his hand out of her body and shook off the last of the lyrium's power.

He searched her eyes while Hawke lost herself in the twin emerald pools. He expressed so much through his eyes and wasn't even aware of it. Hawke watched dozens of things cross those beautiful green orbs ranging from confusion to lust to shame. She let the silence build between them deciding to just be content he was this close. He hadn't moved his hands much and she was aware of the hand sitting on the swell of her breast. While he waged his mental war she kept her eyes on his, never wavering. With a deep breath she leaned into the touch experimentally, waiting to see what flickered behind his eyes.

When his eyes dilated without giving away anything else she knew she had him where she wanted him. Before she had hoped he would lose his precious control and hurt her or kill her but this made for a more interesting turn of events. This she could use. If he wouldn't end her misery than he could at least break her body with his unrelenting touch and inability to be gentle. With her free hand she slipped under his breastplate and grabbed the waist of his leggings. Curling her fingers into the fabric, she yanked, urging him to close the gap between them. He gave in, allowing her to pull him flush with her but issued a rumble from deep in his chest that caused her to shiver. The elf was dangerous on the best of days and she was playing with a wolf that was unaware it was being hunted.

Fenris surprised her when he crushed his lips to hers, tilting his head and urging her to allow him access. Out of sheer inability to reign in her desire for the warrior dominating her she accepted him. His tongue danced fiercely with her and hungry lips pulled at hers. Hawke was unaware of when he released the hand pinned to the wall or when she had threaded it into his hair. Fenris was no longer touching her but removing his gauntlets with practiced ease. When he had them removed he turned his hands to more wicked endeavors.

He slid one hand up thigh until he had firm grasp and lifted it around his middle. His other hand moved to her throat and he slipped it inside the neck before yanking one side down her shoulder. Hawke gasped at the sound of tearing fabric. _Anders may call him a beast but he doesn't understand how good that can be. _ When she tore away from his mouth he moved to her neck skimming over flesh that was still marked from his last visit alone with her. She let out a loud moan when he nipped the sensitive junction between her neck and shoulder. Tired of his hard breastplate, she untangled her hand from his hair and worked on the buckles.

After several frustrating minutes and dealing with an elf that wouldn't quit doing things that made her melt, she got the armor off and let it clang to the ground with a satisfying thud. With the form fitting metal out of the way his markings lay bare but he gave her no time to admire them before he had loosened the tie of her house robe and laid her bare to him. He let the material hang off her arms and moved directly to her usually hidden assets.

Fenris kneeled before her moving his hands to her breasts while he laid small nips and bites across her stomach. Hawke kept one hand in his white locks while the other tried to help her hold herself in an upright position by gripping the stone at her back. As he worked his way toward her wet center Hawke chose to speak again.

"Your Little Red Robed Apostate wants to know what you are planning to do with her." She was surprised at the depth of her voice and the lust that tinged it.

He looked up at her, emerald eyes gleaming with pure mischief, and said, "You shouldn't compare us to that storybook tale, Hawke."

"Why not, it seems fitting, don't you think?" She gave him the pout she knew usually caused him to do whatever she was asking.

He gave her a smirk that she was sure was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen before replying, "Because the Big Bad Wolf _eats_ her."

With that said he turned back to his task and began to devour her wet heat. Hawke let out a scream of delight and fought the tremble in her body. Fenris worked her center with his tongue, dipping it in and out of her core. He would come back up and give her nub a long exploration with the tip of his tongue. Her trembling became almost violent and she knew she wouldn't stay standing much longer. Fenris moved away and eased her to her knees and away from the wall. When he had her back on the carpet in front of the fireplace he left her on her knees and lay down on the ground underneath her.

Fenris kept his body behind her so when Hawke looked down all she could see was the crown of his head and those eyes that held her still for him. She hovered over his face on shaky thighs while he worked long, sword callused fingers up her inner thighs. Before he reached her center he worked his hands around to the meat under her buttocks and pulled her closer to his face. Tentative licks were met with soft moans until Hawke found herself trying to rock her hips in his grip. He changed technique, sucking her clit into his mouth and lightly grazing it with his teeth. The change in pace caused her to buck sharply and he let go with soft smacking noise.

Hawke looked down into a pair of eyes that were lit with desire so deep that she moaned and rocked again against his chin. The lines on his chin gave a soft pulse and caused an involuntary spasm in midsection. Hawke was surprised to find that she wanted to continue to rub herself across his face. She started a small rhythm of shallow thrusts trying to gauge his reaction. At that moment she swore he was smiling. She couldn't see his mouth to confirm it but the mirth reflected in his eyes was clear. Fenris then pushed and pulled her hips to speed her rhythm while moving his mouth to her inner folds. With her rocking backing forth in an almost punishing pace he devoured her core, using his tongue to fuck her while she cried out above him. His name fell from her lips like a mantra until the edge of her impending fall caused her silence. When he felt her body tighten with the encroaching orgasm he started to growl into her. At this point he was a man starved, taking and tasting the bounty placed before him.

The orgasm hit her so hard that she fell forward, barely catching her hands on the floor to keep from falling on her face. She quivered and gasped from her knees while the elf that had been beneath her now chuckled from behind her. She looked over her shoulder, intending to give him a withering look but what she saw gave her pause. She had never seen Fenris like this. He was barely hanging on to the edges of his control, his markings ablaze and a dangerous aura about his presence. His snowy hair was disheveled and the corners of his mouth were pulled into the beginnings of a smile. He remained on his knees as well; content to watch her try to reign in her body.

As she stopped shaking he reached out to stroke her lower back. His other hand went to her hip and he used his fingers to still her swaying motions. Hawke tracked his movements and waited to see what his next move would be. She had only been this vulnerable with him one other time and she had had to reassure him constantly that it was okay, she trusted him. Now she didn't know what to expect from him since he had decided that control was something he could have.

He let go of her to stand and when she tried to follow he put a hand up to stop her. "Stay exactly where you are, Hawke. We aren't finished yet."

His words tore a groan from her throat and she turned her head away so he wouldn't see her face. Hawke was positive Fenris would read everything and she wasn't sure she wanted him to know the extent of his power over her. She heard him untie the laces of his leggings and fabric sliding down muscled legs. Her mind provided her with a mental picture from just a few days ago and she whimpered at the thought of what he was about to use.

Fenris returned to his knees behind her, sliding his thighs up to rest against her backside. She felt him resting between her cheeks and reached a hand behind her. From between her legs she cupped his balls in her palm and rolled her fingers, gently kneading the flesh. He let out a choked moan before biting it short and pulling away from her grasp.

"Not yet, Hawke," he panted out, "put your hand back. You are going to need it."

No sooner then she had replaced her hand on the carpeted floor he had sheathed himself to the hilt inside her. The earlier work had her dripping already and his entrance was smooth. Before giving her time to adjust he set a rough pace. Her ears filled with the sound of slapping flesh, her deep, gut pulled groans, and panting breaths from the elf that were beginning to sound like growls. The unrelenting grip he had on her hips and the careful controlled pace told her that he wasn't letting go yet. Fenris was still in control of his faculties and Hawke wanted the beast inside him. The untamed, feral thing that always lurked just below the surface and he kept so carefully leashed.

"Fenris?" Hawke called for his attention. "Fenris."

When he didn't respond she turned to look at him again. He was gritting his bared teeth in concentration with a faraway look in his eyes. Her eyes roamed over the flex of his neck and rolling muscle in his corded arms. The movement in his abdominal muscles caused each individual muscle to strain against the skin with each breath.

"Fenris!" Hawke saw his eyes snap to hers with a look that seemed to plead for…something. Undeterred Hawke rolled her hips at him watching his face pinch and he went full puppy dog eyes on her. That look that turned her to a puddle and made her want to wrap him up her arms. He usually reserved that look for when he _really_ didn't want to do something or when he just wanted her to _stop_ and let him do what he needed to.

"Hawke." Her name came out breathlessly.

He never broke pace so she met his hips beat for beat in an attempt to quicken the pace. If she could just get him to step over that edge with her then there was no telling what they could do.

"Harder, love," Hawke moaned,"Just let go."

"No," he was struggling to speak now, "I will not hurt you."

"No, you won't." Hawke made her point by slamming her hips back into his. "Let go, love."

Hawke turned back to face forward, hoping that if she wasn't watching him that he might be more inclined to acquiesce to the idea that she wasn't something delicate. He moved a hand from her hip, over her lower back, and up the middle of her spine. He then pushed her down so her chest and head were on the floor. Her cheek rubbed on the carpet but the plush fiber teased her nipples at the same time. When she didn't protest he turned the pace brutal and she could see his markings glow brighter in the dim firelight.

"Yes," she hissed out, "that's it. Just. Let. GO!"

As that last word tore from her lips Fenris bellowed out a roar, the air around them burned with blue light, and he pounded her into the floor. Her cheek was rubbed into the carper hard enough to leave a burn and the hand pressed into her back would no doubt leave a mark. The fevered pace caused the impassioned mage to cry out, a string of unintelligible words pouring from her lips. He bent forward putting his chest to her back and Hawke could make out broken Tevene flowing from his mouth into her ear. His hips lost rhythm, breaking his pace and stuttering out the beginnings of his release.

A broken moan from Fenris of, "Festis bei umo canavarum," before clamping his teeth into the side of her throat and Hawke tumbled over the edge with him. In a flash of blue and white both bodies pitched forward, landing in a heap of tangled limbs. Fenris lay still, stiff and tight against her with his arms encircling her possessively. Hawke molded to the embrace. She knew what those words meant; she had heard them out of frustration numerous times. To hear them in a moment of unbarred vulnerability instead of when he disliked her decisions was heart breaking.

He would run, again, and this time it would be forever before he would come back, if he comes back. _If you love something let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't then it never was._ Her mother's oft repeated phrase rang in her head as she listened to the panting breaths that filled the silence. Hawke realized then that they had come full circle, the moment was over. When her thoughts returned to the mother she was grieving, she made a promise to herself and her mother.

_Ok, mother. I know I spent years not listening to anything you said. I heard you though. I will let him go. It will eat me alive but I'm choosing to trust that you're right. You always were I was just too stubborn to acknowledge it._

The air in the room shifted as Fenris caught his breath. He let his eyes wander over the beautiful bare form he still held tightly. Hawke was perfect in his eyes, the fact that she was a mage scared him but he was almost sure of her strength. Hawke would broker no deal with demons and would never slit her wrists to power her own spells. She certainly would never use someone else's blood; the woman couldn't stand it getting on her, which happened more often than not. He sensed the moment she started to drift into sleep but he needed to leave before that happened. He couldn't abandon her in the middle of the night again, he needed to go back to his dilapidated mansion and think.

He slowly started to extricate himself from her body and was surprised when she made no move to keep him there. Last time she had reached out, attempting to stop his flight and telling him they could work through it; now she seemed resigned to the fact that he would flee and was going to let him go without a word. As he dressed he watched her climb to her knees and crawl to her bed. Hawke climbed in quickly and covered up, barely sparing him a glance.

When the last buckle was set he walked toward the bedroom door. Fenris turned to face her, knowing he didn't have to explain, but wanting to provide it anyway.

"Hawke," he began, "I…"

She held up her hand to keep him from continuing. "It's alright Fenris. You need to go. I don't mind."

He stayed there for only another moment before flashing her that heart breaking look and swiftly exiting her chambers. She called softly to him but he kept walking, she knew he heard her with his sensitive ears. Hawke listened to his bare feet pad down the stairs and a low goodnight to Bodahn before the main doors were latched behind him. After she was sure he was gone she pressed her hand to the side of her neck. The bite mark stung and was slightly bloody. She cast a small healing spell to stop the oozing and start the healing process. When Fenris saw that it had scarred he would be upset, especially since he didn't seem to realize he had left it, but she would wear it proud and treat it like the favor on his wrist and her crest on his hip. She curled up on her side hugging the blankets tight around her and finally let herself cry. She cried for Bethany, she cried for Carver, she cried for her father and mother, and she cried for Fenris. She wept for the former slave and all he's endured. She wept for the mess it left behind and the freedom he wouldn't allow himself to have until the mage that thought he owned him was dead.

As Hawke cried until she slipped into a broken sleep Fenris drank and rampaged through his stolen mansion. He cursed himself for being unable to give her what she needed and obviously wanted. He was just a broken slave squatting in a rundown mansion and an elf to boot. Hawke was a Hightown noble now, human and an apostate living in the open. He was still utterly confused as to why she wanted him when all he did was leave her in an emotional mess afterward. He'd hurt her tonight, physically and emotionally, again, when all he'd wanted to do was comfort her and make the pain go away. She had spoken to him, while he was still close to her door but her words were wrong for what he had done.

"Fasta Vass!" He screamed to the empty room, smashing another chair against the broken walls. "Why would she thank me?"

With his energy finally spent and limbs shaking from the lack of adrenaline, he finally collapsed into one of the only chairs that had been spared his wrath. He buried his face into the palms of his hands, hoping that he could just figure out _why_ she allowed him such concessions with her. Hawke had called him "love" yet he had no concept of love only of pain and anger. Pain and anger were warm, familiar, _manageable, _feelings. This thing that was quickly becoming obsession frightened him. He wanted her with him always but wanted her as far away from him as she could get just to keep her from Danarius. He couldn't do that though, she wouldn't allow it and he need her help to kill his former master.

Fenris sat in that chair, brooding as Varric would say, until the early hours of the morning. He slept in that chair with his head propped on one arm until midafternoon. Once he had cleaned up, he headed out to the Wounded Coast, wanting the salt air to cleanse his turbulent thoughts.

He was out for only 2 days; when he returned Kirkwall was burning and the Qunari stood over freshly dead citizens in the streets. His thoughts focused into only one immediate purpose, _Find Hawke._


End file.
